


'we should probably go Dutch'

by withaflashoflove



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 02:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9527429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withaflashoflove/pseuds/withaflashoflove
Summary: Speculation for what happens in 3.11/12, centered around the "I, Iris West, mattered" line.





	

_I’m pushin’ this luck all the way to the coast; I’m throwin’ it over just to see if it floats._  


“Iris what were you thinking?!” Wally pants, dropping her in one of the rooms of this seemingly abandoned building they were both standing in.

The nameless guy that had just been talking to Iris lays on the floor, handcuffed and silent.

“I was thinking I finally caught my break, Wally!” she huffs. It was cruel of him to interrupt right when she had the guy cornered, right when she was on the verge of showing him he wasn’t going to intimidate her.

But her baby brother just had to show up and play hero.

“Your break?” He shouts back at her, not bothering to keep his voice down, the adrenaline clear in his eyes. “Does your break involve you dying? Because it sure looked like he had a gun pointed right at your chest, one you voluntarily walked into!”

She shuts her eyes tight.

Life would be so much easier without speedsters, of that she’s convinced.

“I’m fine. I would’ve handled it.”

“Iris! You can’t be serious!” Wally throws his arms up, and now he’s really starting to get on her nerves.

Part of her knows if she were to put herself into his shoes, she’d probably understand, probably know that Wally’s angry because he found her with her chest to a gun, unprotected and in an empty space with a man he knew nothing about only a few seconds ago.

But her adrenaline’s pumping too and a lecture from her baby brother is the last thing she needs to calm her down. So she suppresses the knowledge, suppresses her sympathy and defends herself instead.

“I _am_ serious,” she retaliates, “you don’t get to baby me.”

His hands drop.

“B..baby you..? You-”

He pauses, not able to get the sentence out. “You think this is me babying you?” he asks, seconds later.

“I think you’ve got some new hero complex you need to satisfy now.”

And that hurts her to say.

By the looks of it, it hurts him to hear as well.

But she doesn’t take it back. Instead, she lets the words mix with the air and waits on him to respond.

“You wanted me to leave you?” he asks, the inflection in his voice gone, nothing but despair and confusion left in it.

If she were in a better mental state, she’d probably apologize right about now.

She’d probably restart this entire conversation.

She’d probably be more mindful of the parallels between how Barry got unfairly mad at him for saving his life and how she’s doing the same in this moment.

She’d pull him down for a hug and tell him she never meant to scare him. That she’s thankful he saved her life.

But the reality is, she’s not, and she’s hurting and she can’t figure out up from down anymore, all control of her life outside her hands, except for this.

Except her journalism.

Except her story.

“I was fine."

“You could’ve died.”

She stares at him, her eyes locking with his, her jaw tensing, her fists clenching. “I already will.”

The room goes silent.

Wally’s mouth drops open, as his eyes search hers. He’s probably looking for a clue, something that’ll tell him what he needs to say next, but Iris isn’t offering any, determined to prove her point, determined to walk away from the conversation with the last word.

“You won-”

“Don’t.” She cuts him off. “Don’t say that, Wally.”

Iris paces back and forth for what feels like minutes. She gathers her thoughts, plans her next words as wisely as she can.

“ _If_ I die in four months, I want my life to mean something, that I Iris West, mattered.” She speaks defiantely, stands right in front of him after finally coming to a stop, the words on her lips harsh and poignant.

In contrast though, she notices his eyes soften as he looks at her. Even through his mask, Iris can see understanding fill his face.

“You do matter, Iris,” he says softly, “how can you not know that?”

“I know that I have a deadline.”

His anger flares again. “Yeah, a deadline that doesn’t require you stepping in front of a bullet!”

The guy on the ground groans, and that gets her attention momentarily. For a split second, she wonders what would’ve happened had Wally not stepped in. Would she have really been able to take him? Would the gun currently tucked underneath the band of her pants secure her safety? Would she have made it outside with what she needed for the story, with the new knowledge she gained _and_ with her life?

But Iris doesn’t spend too much time contemplating the _what ifs._ She hasn’t done that since Barry told her her fate.

Since then, she’s been too busy focused on the now.

Like with the guy and with the lock she was about to break open before he found her.

Like with the stash of weaponry she would’ve surely found behind the door.

Like the rogue undercover cop operation she was about to set to light.

And...like her brother, still waiting for her response.

She looks back up at him. “I was talking about the other deadline.”

It’s cryptic enough; she doesn’t need to add, _you know, that one that’s literally gonna leave me dead._ She decides to leave that part out, not wanting to hurt him anymore, not wanting to have this conversation anymore.

“Wally,” Iris adds, “I can handle myself.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t doubt it. But, Iris, this, _this_ ” - he gestures to the room with both hands - “it’s not like you. You usually have back up. You usually would let us know where you were.

If Linda didn’t call me saying you had a death wish, I would’ve never known where to find you!”

“I have my gun.” Iris points to the outline forming at the bottom of her shirt. “I would’ve called if I needed help.”

“You stepped straight into a gun, Iris,” Wally’s voice comes again, this time with resignation.

She knows he deserves to know more. She knows none of this is his fault.

But it’s more complicated than he can understand, a complexity she doesn’t have time to explain.

Instead, she leans up to give him a hug. “Thank you for coming,” she says, after stepping back, “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner, okay?”

She spins on her heels and begins her walk to the door, but in a flash, Wally’s in front of her. “You can’t leave it like this.”

“Wally,” Iris pushes past him, “I have work to do.”

When she reaches the door, she realizes he hasn’t followed her anymore.

She turns back around and sees him still standing in place. “Do me a favor.”

Wally looks up.

“Don’t tell Barry, please.”

And with that, she makes her way out.

* * *

_Renegade agent, I got no taste for their races; I run on whiskey and risk and ennui and impatience._

 

“Hey babe.”

He hears the door gently shut.

“Hey.”

Barry makes his way over off the couch to wrap her up in his arms, the sudden feeling of missing her hitting him fast.

When he reaches her, her arms embrace him and his lips make their way to the top of her head, lingering for a few seconds.

“How was your day?” She pulls away.

Barry lets her pull him by the hand to the living room, and he drops back onto the couch while she drops onto his lap.

She kisses him again.

“Good,” he smiles, genuinely for the first time all day, “it’s a lot better now."

She mirrors his grin. “Because of me?”

“Always.”

If he says anything now, he’s ruin the mood, which means she’ll stop kissing him, may even get off his lap, may walk away from him, and he doesn’t think he can handle being away from her touch.

So he lets it go for now, instead nuzzling his nose into her neck, holding her as tightly as he could without alarming her.

Wally told him something was up.

But the speedster refused to go into details; he left it at _make sure you ask Iris if she’s alright. She’s had a rough day._

And it’s burning him whole to keep this in, because he wants to know what’s going on, but the other part of him is afraid. Afraid she’ll say something along the lines of _Savitar_ and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to comfort her without her ending up needing to comfort him.

“I smell something really good.” Iris pulls away from his lips and meets his eyes.

She looks so happy, the glisten in her eyes reflecting the light from the candles. He’s not sure how she does it, how she does any of this. She’s so strong when she needs to be, can put on a brave face even when she’s not feeling her best, and Barry wishes sometimes she’d drop the act around him.

He shakes his head, a chuckle coming from his mouth. “I tried cooking dinner, but we might just need to order take out.”

She sniffs again. “You burned-”

“- everything?” He interrupts her with a bashful smile. “I cleaned up. It’s just I got a call about a robbery and it took longer than expected…”

“...ahh. Which means everything overcooked.”

“And burned,” he finishes the sentence.

Iris laughs along with him. “Take out sounds great. I could use the extra calories.”

He cocks his head. “Why’s that?”

It’s pretty late, almost 8 p.m. and he knows Iris is usually intent on having a light dinner when she gets home this late. _It gives me an excuse to indulge during breakfast_ , she’d say.

“I’m planning on staying up tonight.”

“Why?” he pries.

She brings her fingers to unbutton the top button of his dress shirt, sliding the tip of her fingers beneath his shirt. They feel cold on his skin, but it makes him weak in the knees nonetheless, especially when her fingers travel to his back, before landing on his neck.

Iris leans in to kiss him again.

“Just some work I need to finish,” she answers, brushing her nose against his.

The intimacy isn’t unusual; she’s been almost as touchy as he is lately, sneaking grazes and kisses and hugs whenever they were in close proximity. Not that he’s complaining. Not that he’d ever complain. But he couldn’t figure out the reason.

Still, he holds her a little tighter, as his left hand sneaks beneath her shirt.

That’s when he feels the gun.

Quickly, he pulls away.

“Don’t mind that,” Iris hurriedly explains, standing up.

She makes her way over to the kitchen with a speed that almost matches him.

Barry stays behind on the couch. “Why do you have a gun?” he calls out.

When he doesn’t get an answer, he turns around to find her leaning against the counter, her brows furrowed.

“Iris?” He calls again, this time standing to walk over to her. “What’s the gun for?”

“Just needed it.”

“Why?”

He stands close again, his hands gripping the bottom of her elbows, pleading for her silently to clue him in.

“I just..” she exhales, “it was backup.”

“Are you in danger?”

“No, no!” She reassures him, pressing her body into his. “I just had an interview and -”

“- you didn’t mention that,” he interrupts her.

Usually she’d tell him when she was working on a story, revealing to him as much as she could without breaking any confidentiality rules. He’d know when she had an interview, in case she needed anything, in case she got in trouble. It was something they’d both agreed on - keeping each other in the loop of their daily activities, just in case something ever happened.

“It slipped my mind, Bear.”

She pulls away from him. “Honestly, no big deal.”

But Barry doesn’t buy it. “Wally said something was up with you today. Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

He pauses to close the distance between them again, spinning her around and backing her against the counter. “Between what he said and the gun and you not telling me you had an interview, you’re worrying me.”

Iris takes a long breath.

She could, scratch that, _should_ come clean about everything. But what would she say? _I’ve got four months to live, so I’m invincible_ doesn’t seem right.

Still, honesty is her preferred route, especially when it comes to Barry.

“I’m working on a pretty big story. There’s been a rogue police operation in the city and today I almost found their arsenal of weapons,” she confesses.

“How?”

“The person I was interviewing was late and curiosity and impatience got the best of me.”

“Iris.” His voice comes shaky, but firm, just like his grip.

He looks like he’s about to say something, probably push her for more information about what she was doing, but instead, she sees softness in his eyes and his hands go loose on her arms.

“Are you okay?”

The question throws her off guard.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

Barry’s never accused her of that before, and it takes her by surprise the newfound tone of his words.

“You’re not okay, Iris. So please, _please_ , just talk to me.”

Her head drops.

In between the adrenaline of the day and getting caught up in the action, she forgot to cover her tracks, and she definitely should’ve done that.

Because Barry makes her soft, makes her shed the guise of _fine_ she usually carries, and she can’t hide from him.

So she comes clean.

“I have four months to live. I’d like to do something meaningful during them.”

“You don’t know that, Iris. You won’t die!”

“Stop.”

She pushes him off her and walks away, heads back into the living room.

“You keep saying that. You keep saying I won’t die.”

Now the tears are hot in her eyes and if she’s not careful, she’s bound to break both their hearts tonight.

“And eventually you’re gonna make the both of us believe it, Barry. But what happens if I do? What happens then?”

“Bu-”

She cuts him off. “You can’t predict the future. No one can. But if we can’t change it, then I’d at least like to be prepared for it. I’d like to know I lived a life that was worth something.”

He rushes back to where she is.

“Your life is worth everything.”

She shakes her head.

“I’m not a superhero. I don’t save people on the daily. I don’t know science. I can’t create remedies with the mix of chemicals.

Barry, I have nothing to look back on that’s truly _mine._ ”

“Iris, you’re the glue that holds it all together!”

He pulls her into his chest and holds her fiercely, refusing to let her go even when her fists come heavy on his chest.

“You’re the reason for it all.

Iris.”

The way he says her name makes her body shake, makes her feel like the entire world could collapse in this very moment.

This time, she pulls away from him gently and slowly, keeping a steady hold for fear of the exhaustion catching up to her.

“I’d like to do this,” she says, bringing one of her hands to wipe the tears falling from his own eyes, “for me.”

“I can’t let you get hurt.”

“I won’t.”

“No story is worth your life.”

It’s not the first time he’s said it to her, told her those exact same words. Oddly enough, blindly jumping from the top of a building seems a lot less scary than this very conversation she’s having with him.

“I know.”

“Then please be careful.”

She nods.

“You matter.”

She nods again.

“Don’t give up on me.”

“Ba-”

“I know this isn’t about me, I know,” he adds, still holding her tight, “but if you give up on me, then I’ll give up on me. You’ve always been the stronger of the two of us. You’re the only thing that’s kept me alive, Iris.”

She stills in his arms.

Maybe heartbreak wasn’t the right word to use. Maybe it was just heartache and confession. Maybe that’s what was happening tonight.

“I’ve always reached for your hand, and you’ve taken it with a steady grip and led me to a better day. This time, I can lead. But I still need your hand in mine.

You can’t let go.

You can’t give up.”

And she understands, she does. As selfish as she wants to be with her actions in her remaining days, she knows she can’t. Not when she’s so in love with the scarlet speedster, not when she can’t break his heart without breaking her own.

“Okay.”

“And whatever you need, I’ll do.” He leans in to give her a tight-lipped kiss, moving his lips to her cheeks, followed by her forehead, before pulling away. “But please, just let me in.”

So she smiles. Because she can't help it. Not when he's so full of sincerity, not when he can make the hardest of days a little easier.

“I want Chinese take out.” She says the words with a laugh, which earns a laugh from him too, the smile in his eyes back to how it was when they were sitting on the couch. “And I want you to help me with this story.

If you’d like.”

He leans down to kiss her again, before engulfing her in his arms again and pressing his lips to the top of her head.

“Done and done.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from "Dutch" by Dessa, as are the quotes.  
> Shoutout to inksmudge for really being the best human to discuss fanfic with and to help in getting a hold on a story. Love you <3


End file.
